F is For
by Warfang
Summary: When Alfred calls Francis, what does he need to talk about?


I do not own Hetalia!

F is For...

Alfred stared out at the sun over the Eiffel Tower. Francis had accepted his hysterical phone call and not pressed about the details.

Francis knew that sometimes the Western Nation was torn apart by the decisions and had a tendency to list to one side or the other, but the fit the Alfred had called him in had truly worried the older Nation.

America didn't do panic attacks. That was something he expected from Canada, not something for America to seek help on.

The younger Nation had not spoken about the disjointed words, and Francis hadn't pressed. But he knew in his concept that was constantly drawn from his people to the American Freedom that Alfred would have his resolve on the issue before he left.

"I was thinking today, before I called you."

_Ah _he thought,_ he it comes. _

"I was thinking about when I was a colony, and you and Arthur were arguing over who got to claim me. I was wondering what to get you for your birthdays this year. And then I remembered something. Do you know why I have 'F.' for my middle name?"

Francis had a sinking feeling that the F stood for Felicity, and that Alfred had called him up because blubbering to Arthur about the pre-colonial war period would just lead to a drinking session.

But Alfred wasn't giving off a sad vibe. If anything, he was melancholy and bordering on depressed.

Francis sipped his wine. "I would hazard a guess for 'Philip', but that doesn't fit you."

Alfred snorted and hung his head at the French man's humor. "No, it isn't Philip. It's Francis."

Francis froze. "He named me after you. I always wondered why when I was a kid, why I was named after what I thought was another Nation, not a person. Anytime I really messed up, he would use my full name- ALFRED FRANCIS JONES!" Alfred mock-screamed his name. "YOU GET OVER HERE, GIT!"

He shook his head, sinking into the railing. "Now I think that he never stopped thinking about beating you. That I really was just a colony, someone he valued for my land and enriching his Empire. That I succeeded in the Revolution because he didn't take me seriously. But you did."

Alfred turned to look at Francis. "A school teacher taught the children that France only helped the Americans because they believed that the Americans would win the war. Otherwise, they would have stayed out of the fight."

Francis nodded. Wars were always costly. But America had repaid them. The notion of helping people because they needed help, and not because you were rich or famous, but because of a genuine want to help had been crafted in America.

"I just fell apart. I had an identity crisis. Was there anything that I could do? Who could I turn to? Matthew's not speaking to me, the topic's too touchy for Arthur, and then I remembered that you had stepped in."

Francis sipped his wine. What was he going to say? Alfred was in serious pain.

"I'm sorry for dumping this on you. I just needed to talk." Francis tossed the wine over the balcony. He set the glass down and wrapped and arm around Alfred.

"Mon Cheri, I will always be here for you." Alfred buried his face into the shorter man's neck.

The sun set.

Francis carried the younger Nation into the house and out of the chill of the night. He settled in the couch and rocked Alfred to sleep.

Punching Arthur for this would only make the problem worse. Alfred needed reassurance that he was worth something to the world. Figures that this happens after the national anthem gets messed up at the Super Bowl.

Francis soothed the nation that looked so much like him, blond hair and blue eyes.

"You know, Alfred, you are a very special guy." Alfred sniffled into Francis' shoulder. "I mean, who do you know gets a French Lady in his very own harbor?"

Alfred chuckled.

"Who else fights global wars on ideals that the world can be a better place? Who else preaches that man is created equal, so go out into the world and make something of yourself, eh? Who else," Francis lifted Alfred's head and pushed the hair out of his face, pulling the fogged up glasses off. "Who else do you know is strong enough to know that he can't be handled by one person? You are a unique country, and there is no other like you, nor your equal."

Alfred smiled.

"Come now, get some sleep. I can show you some of the Paris delights and Museums when you wake up. You are the country of Freedom, but I am the country of Love."

Alfred nodded, and settled down to sleep. Francis joined him after deciding that Arthur would be so paying for that in their next meeting. How dare he make Alfred cry.


End file.
